Sick
by LittleMaryMacintosh13
Summary: Enjolras is sick with the flu. He finds out about a surprising talent of Grantaire's.


_**Okay so my friend made me write this ok and so she better fucking appreciate this shit. Anyway so like Enjolras gets really icky sicky and Grantaire has to take care of him.**_

_**Have fun ripping your eyeballs out.**_

Joly was a mess.

Running about his house, he collected random bits of medical care equipment, babbling something quickly. To Musichetta and Bossuet, they managed to make out the words: "Enjolras is sick."

It was true. Enjolras had caught a stomach virus. And it was _bad. _The poor boy was on a liquid diet, and he was barely able to hold it down. Combeferre had visited him, and had to leave due to the awful smell of vomit, sweat, and body odor from laying in bed for three days.

Enjolras, however, did have a caretaker. Grantaire had offered immediately upon finding out about his illness. Now, Grantaire stayed in Enjolras' house and took care of him, though Enjolras insisted he go home and not catch what he had.

Grantaire didn't listen.

Enjolras was buried beneath the layers of blankets, shivering. His teeth chattered and his sheets were soaked with sweat. He had shed literally every single bit of clothing, trying to get warmer under the blankets. On his nightstand was a packet of crackers and a cup of ginger ale. Below his bed was a trash can, filled up half way with disgusting vomit.

Grantaire entered, giving him a small smile. He had sobered up for this at least, knowing it would do him no good at all.

Stepping in, he shut the door quietly and approached the bed and felt Enjolras' forehead. "How're you feeling...?"

"Like death." Enjolras murmured.

Grantaire smiled sympathetically and picked up the nasty trashcan, leaving to dispose of it and get another bag. He brought it back and sat on the bed.

"You're going to get sick too, Grantaire."

"Nonsense. I have an amazing immune system."

"I thought so too, until it revolted and turned against me." He cringed and held his stomach, moaning in agony. It hurt. He jolted and grabbed the trash can, upchucking into it.

"God...when will this end? I hate this." He spit into the trashcan and sighed, looking at Grantaire again.

"Gra-"

"I won't get sick."

Enjolras sighed and buried himself beneath the comforters once more. Grantaire couldn't help but smile at the little bits of blonde peeking up out of the blankets. Kicking off his shoes, he moved up, moving under the blankets with the other man.

"What are you doing?!"

"Taking care of you."

He took the shivering man into his arms, and surprisingly, Enjolras didn't resist. Eventually the blonde relaxed and leaned into him, sighing.

"You really will get sick now."

"You're going to get better this way. Body heat is a good source of warmth. Your revolution needs you, Enjolras."

Another sigh.

Grantaire could only smile as he stroked his hair gently. Then he began to sing.

"_Bonne nuit, mon ange_

_C'est l'heure de fermer les yeux_

_Et de mettre ces questions de côté pour un autre jour_

_Je crois savoir ce que tu me demandais_

_Je crois que tu sais ce que j'essayais de dire_

_Je t'ai promis que je ne te quitterais jamais_

_Et tu devrais toujours savoir_

_Que où que tu puisses aller_

_Où que tu sois_

_Je ne serai jamais très loin_

_Bonne nuit, mon ange_

_Maintenant c'est l'heure de dormir_

_Et il y a encore tellement de choses que j'ai envie de dire_

_Souviens-toi de toutes les chansons que tu m'as chantées_

_Quand nous sommes allés faire du bateau sur dans une baie émeraude_

_Et comme un bateau dans l'océan_

_Je te berce pour que tu t'endormes_

_L'eau est sombre et profonde_

_À l'intérieur de ce vieux coeur_

_Tu seras toujours une part de moi_"

As he finished up the song, he found Enjolras staring at him.

"Hmmm?" Grantaire turned an innocent eye on Enjolras.

"I didn't know you could sing. I didn't know you could sing _well _either. It was actually quite impressive."

Grantaire looked like he had just won a million dollars.

"Thank you. The lyrics...speak to me, you know?"

He could've sworn he saw a blush, but it might've been the fever.

"Just go to bed, Grantaire."

"Gotcha."


End file.
